


Ham and Cheese Press Conference

by 247megamania



Category: Layton Brothers: Mystery Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/247megamania/pseuds/247megamania
Summary: This is a very short pre-Forbodium one shot to support my personal headcanon that Alfendi likes to brag about how he’s so smart he should be famous but actually hates dealing with the press and doesn’t particularly care about credit or public opinion. Thank you for your time and have a nice day! Disclaimer: I have no idea how press conferences are supposed to work, I’m basing this off that one press conference scene in BBC Sherlock. Please don’t sue me.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Ham and Cheese Press Conference

The room buzzed with voices, packed from side to side with seated journalists checking with each other and their respective bosses. This was going to be a big story. A multi-millionaire found dead in his home under suspicious circumstances with a wealth of juicy suspects. The public would eat it up.  


A young man with vibrant red hair and a dark suit walked to the podium, set down a stack of papers, and tapped on the microphone. The crowd fell silent. This was not the person they’d come to see.  


“Hello. Alright, let’s get started. I know you’re all expecting a certain Detective Inspector Pertinax but she’s out on personal business, and because she’s a terrible friend who enjoys torturing people, she asked me to step in for her. I’m DCI Layton, in case you need a name.”  


A whisper ran through the room. Layton was a big name in London.  


“As for the content of the press conference,” he picked up one of his papers, “Mr. XXXX was found dead in his home in XXXXX this Friday at 1:11 pm. Cause of death was determined to be a blow to the head. Foul play is suspected and investigations are underway.” He shuffled his papers for an unnecessarily long time and then looked up. “Now. I suppose you have questions.”  


Hands shot up throughout the room.  


“You, on the right with the green scarf.”  


“I understand the victim’s wife stood to inherit quite a lot in the wake of his death, can you comment on her actions? Does she have an alibi?”  


“What, you’re trying to pin it on the grieving widow? Give it up, we’ve covered that angle half to death already and come up with nothing. Next. Woman in blue, front and center?”  


“Have you identified the murder weapon?”  


“We have, thank you. Next, you in the back.”  


The crowd stirred. That reporter never got called on. The man stood up, a smug smirk on his face.  


“Is it true that your team has been working on this crucial case involving the death of one of London’s most influential figures for a full week without pinpointing a suspect?”  


“What a terribly unflattering summary. You should become a sports announcer. Next.”  


The reporter sat down, eyebrows creased in confusion. A woman dressed in lavender in the middle left of the group stood up.  


“You said your name is Layton, do you have any connection Professor Herschel Layton, the famed puzzle solver?”  


“I fail to see how that subject has any bearing on the case at hand. Next.”  


“Is this murder at all connected with the recent deaths of XXXXX and XXXXX, two other members of London’s elite?”  


“The possibility of a connection is under investigation. Next, man in red on the side there.”  


“Have you determined the motive behind the killing?”  


“No. And that’s all the time I’m willing to waste on this, if you have any more questions, cope. Have a nice day.” With that, he left the stand and exited through a side door, 

and the crowd exploded into conversation.  


...  


In a small hospital room across town, a man lay in bed, leg wrapped in a cast and hands busy with a game of solitaire. Next to him stood an impeccably dressed woman, eyes glued to the television set.  


“I am going to strangle that man,” she said after the press conference ended.  


“Is something wrong, Hilda?”  


“Nothing, father, my coworker’s an idiot, that’s all. Let’s play a game of King’s Corner. Keep your mind off your leg.”


End file.
